


MOTHER KNOWS BEST

by Jantique



Category: Shadow of the Templar - M. Chandler
Genre: Coming Out, F/M, Humor, M/M, Poker, Post-"High Fidelity"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-03
Updated: 2012-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-28 20:17:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jantique/pseuds/Jantique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mom's away for the weekend, so the gang comes to Nate's house for poker night. Mom would <i> plotz</i>, she would Absolutely Die, if she knew that instead of a Nice Jewish Female Doctor (or Lawyer), Nate was dating ... well, Johnny. Fortunately, she never has to know. </p><p>  <i>Yeah, right!</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	MOTHER KNOWS BEST

Things were quiet in Team Templar’s HQ as Simon finished the (mercifully drama-free) morning briefing, and said brightly, “So, team, anything else? No? Good!”

 

Nate stifled the impulse to raise his hand and said, “Um. My mom’s visiting her sister for the weekend. So we could have poker night at my place. If people wanted to.”

 

There was a general chorus of agreement to the suggestion of an actual _house_ , instead of a cramped apartment. Johnny just nodded approval.

 

“But listen, guys,” Nate hastily added, “and I mean this, you have to help me clean up after! I don’t want her walking in to—to—” They’d all seen the remains of poker night, and it wasn’t a pretty picture.

 

“Aw, don’t worry, Specs,” Mike said, “we’ll get it so clean your ma will never know we were there! So she won’t ground you!”

 

“Okay, folks, you heard the man; Honda just volunteered for clean-up duty,” Simon said. “Hmm. Specs, if Archer’s in town, can he come?”

 

“Um, sure. He’s a terrible poker player, though—well, yeah, sure!”

 

Mike, of course, had put his two cents in. “Archer’s in town, and all you got to do with him is bring him to poker night?” He sighed deeply and shook his head. “The honeymoon is over! There’s no romance any more!” Sandra fought hard not to snicker, but kicked him on general principle.

 

“Fuck you, too, Honda,” Simon said cheerfully. “He’s not actually _in_ town, but I know he’s somewhere in the States. I can ask him. And he _is_ good at losing money!”

 

Everyone went back to work or, in Nate’s case, to making a list of things he would need. (How _much_ beer? How _many_ chips?) He really didn’t mind if the guys bailed on clean-up; he knew that Johnny would stay, and after that chore was finished. . . . Part of him was industriously typing away, but another part was lost in a daydream, imagining Johnny and himself making out in his bedroom. (Even in his daydreams, he couldn’t imagine doing the deed on the living room couch, where Mom could _find stains_!)

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Poker Night Minus 30 Minutes. The beer was in the fridge, the chips and pretzels in bowls. The doorbell rang. Someone was early—Johnny, he hoped. Nate went to the door, looked out the peephole—and almost had a heart attack. He threw the door open.

 

“MOM! What are _you_ doing here?!”

 

There was Mom, suitcase in hand. “Don’t get smart with me, young man. I live here, remember?”

 

“But—but—“

 

“Ruth’s power went out. The whole neighborhood is black; they say don’t know when they’ll get it back. I told her to come here with me, but no, she’d rather sit in the dark.” She shrugged.

 

Nate automatically brought her suitcase inside as his mother came in. “But, Mom, um, I told the guys we could have poker night here tonight!”

 

She beamed. “Oh, that’s nice. I’m glad your friends are coming over. Your father, may he rest in peace, always used to bring the boys over for poker. He wasn’t very good, but he made friends. Me, I don’t play, but everyone said I was a good hostess.”

 

“Um.” It was really too late to cancel. This could work out. The Universe owed him one, right?

 

“You have beer and soft drinks, right? And potato chips? And seven-layer dip—everyone likes the seven-layer dip.”

 

He didn’t have seven-layer dip. He wondered if it was too late to run out—no, the doorbell was already ringing. He would have to wing it.

 

Team Templar (and Friend) arrived; introductions were made. (“Mom, this is everyone. Everyone, this is my Mom.”) Nate had to admit, Mom was on her best behavior. She didn’t kibitz; she didn’t even press people to eat, she just made sure there was plenty of food (and beer) available. Nate relaxed and started to enjoy himself. He didn’t realize it, but the Universe was sneaking up on him.

 

At the end of the evening, Nate actually found himself a few dollars ahead, a pleasant change. Simon and, much to his own surprise, Dave, were the big winners. Jeremy, as usual, was the big (but gracious) loser. Mom insisted that she would clean up and chased everybody out. Unfortunately, that included Johnny, who shot Nate a long look as he slipped out the door. Nate nodded. He would call Johnny later, from his own room. Which was _not_ as good as having him here, but … maybe tomorrow they could get together.

 

Of course, he helped his mother with the clean-up. It turned out she had plenty to say.

 

“Your friends are very nice. That Sandra seems like a nice girl; is she seeing someone?”

 

“Yeah, Sandy and Mike are together.”

 

“Pfft! She could do better! The mouth on that boy! So Jeremy—where is he from? He has an accent.”

 

“He’s English, from London, I think. He isn’t on the team, he’s just … a friend.” It really was too complicated to explain.

 

“A _friend_ , huh? I can see who he’s friends with! He and Simon, they’re _fagelehs_ , right?”

 

“Mom!”

 

“What? You know I’m not prejudiced. I can see there’s something between them.”

 

Nate didn’t see how. “But they hardly even looked at each other all night!”

 

“Ah!” his mother responded sagely. “Sometimes it’s when people _don’t_ look at each other that means the most!”

 

And what the hell did _that_ mean? To Nate’s horror, she continued, “But you, you like that Johnny, don’t you?”

 

Nate stopped moving. It’s possible his heart stopped beating.

 

She continued, “He’s very polite; he called me ‘Ma’am’. Is he going with someone? You should find out. Ask him out to see a movie or a ballgame or something.”

 

 _What_?! Nate gathered all his courage (he was an FBI agent; he could _do_ this!), and said, “Mom, Johnny is going, um, with me. We’re going together.” Did that even make sense?

 

His mother looked up at him. “This is serious?”

 

Nate nodded. “Yeah. It’s serious.”

 

“Nathan Daniel Waxman!  You meet someone, you’re going out together, and _you_ _don’t even tell your own mother_!”

 

Nate knew he was in trouble. “Um, no one else knows, not even the team.”

 

Mom was not to be soothed. “They’re your _friends_! I’m your _mother_! You didn’t think it was important enough to tell me—“

 

“I didn’t think you’d approve.” That stopped her, at least for the moment. He went on, “You wanted me to marry a nice Jewish doctor. Woman. Johnny’s nice—he’s great!—but he’s not Jewish or a doctor. Or a woman.”

 

Mom thought about it. “Nathan, tell me something. Does he treat you right? Is he respectful?”

 

“Yes!” Nate nodded vigorously.

 

“And if you get in trouble, will he protect you, or is he off shooting bad guys?”

 

“No, he takes care of me, Mom, honest. He always has.”

 

She sighed. “Okay. So you’ll bring him over sometime; I’ll make dinner.”

 

Nate started to say, “But what about—“, then shut his mouth with a snap. He didn’t want to remind her of the negatives, or the improbable grandchildren she was always going on about.

 

Proving that she could read his mind (he never doubted that she _could_ ), she added, “It’s all right, you can adopt.”

 

“Mom! No! Our jobs are too dange— _active_ , and we work weird hours, and, and….”

 

She waved his objections aside. “Not right now, of course not. When you get promoted and get a desk job.”

 

He wisely decided not to argue the point. It was all good. Mom approved of Johnny. The Universe was _not_ out to get him….not today, anyway. Nate called it a win. Tomorrow … hmm. He wondered if Johnny would like to go to a ballgame.

 

And Mom went on, “You know, if you get married, your cousin Amy’s little girl Robin would make a lovely flower girl….”

 

“What? NO, Mom, no! Just no!”

 

THE END

 

 

Author’s Note: “Fageleh” is Yiddish slang for a homosexual. It literally means “little bird”. It’s also my mother’s name. (Hi, Mom!)

 


End file.
